


Dragonfly (Tonbo)

by MidoriKurenaiYume



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Dialogue, Drama & Romance, F/M, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 22:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15851169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidoriKurenaiYume/pseuds/MidoriKurenaiYume
Summary: When she realizes she's about to die, Arturia calls Gilgamesh to say goodbye.





	Dragonfly (Tonbo)

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't of course true for everyone, but by spending time with terminal patients I've noticed that, when looking back on their lives, most people tend to regret what they didn't do rather than what they did do. That's the basis for this fic :)  
> I realize some themes might come across as insensitive in this story, and for that I apologize :/
> 
> Thank you very much to dearest Christy, who always listens to all my random ideas and always has great ones of her own :D  
> Title: from a Kalafina song, B-side of their 21st single ;) lyrics translated by the canta-per-me forum :)

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_~Our story was walking around~_

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She had already tried calling her father and Irisviel, but without success. Since she was well aware of the fact that it was the middle of the night in their time zone, she hadn’t truly expected them to answer, knowing that they were probably asleep.

There was only one other person she wanted to call, but Arturia could not help being hesitant.

Still undecided, she tried once again Irisviel’s number, receiving no answer.

Immediately after doing so, she felt a stab of remorse. In the morning, her father and Irisviel were going to watch the news and see the missed calls, understanding that she must have tried to reach them, and they would feel guilty for an unpredictable amount of time, perhaps even for the rest of their lives.

Arturia could not allow that; therefore, she sent them each a text, sincere and concise at the same time, ordering them firmly not to blame themselves for not having been able to answer the phone and telling them she loved them. She would have liked to say more, but there wasn’t enough time to do so.

The problem of time brought her back to her previous issue, and she had to acknowledge that she had nothing left to lose at this point. Around her, people were on the phone as well, some talking in hushed, soothing tones, others frantic and crying in their seats. A feeling of resignation was beginning to permeate the whole airplane now that the initial shock had passed.

Scrolling through the list of names in her phone, Arturia found his and swiped her finger across the screen to call him. While it was late in the evening for him as well, she knew that he would answer.

She briefly closed her eyes, shutting out all the noises coming from the people around her. It was almost ironic having to recognize that she had never called him before, as _he_ had always been the one to call her. The fact that the first time she ever dialled his number would be on this day was rather grim to acknowledge.

Arturia was brought back to the present when she heard his voice answering. His tone was flippant and smug as usual, but she didn’t miss the almost imperceptible shift that betrayed the fact that he was pleased.

“Arturia, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

She hadn’t truly considered what exactly she was going to tell him, and it was clearly too late now to think about how to approach the subject tactfully.

“Gilgamesh,” she began without preamble, “do you have a television nearby?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and it didn’t take a lot of imagination to guess that he was taken aback by the sudden question.

It seemed however that, since she had started to speak, she wasn’t going to stop and would insist until she made her point.

“I apologize for the late hour and I hope I didn’t disturb you,” she rambled on, “but if you are near a television, I’d like to ask you to turn it on and look at the news.”

The silence on his side persisted. Since she was fully aware of how strange her request sounded, she was about to add something to explain it better, but he spoke first.

“I thought you were taking a flight tonight,” he said slowly, his voice sounding odd, and she was surprised when she was forced to swallow, not having considered the fact that he was aware of her business trip. “But no matter. The current news is about that nuisance of a politician that is being arrested for fraud and the bad weather. I very much doubt there is anything there that justifies your request.”

She didn’t have the time to say anything, because he continued after a moment, “Oh, the section about the weather is quite lengthy. It seems that storms are expected, which will complicate some flights and–”

He cut himself off abruptly, and Arturia’s eyes ran over the people around her without seeing any of them. He must have heard the rest.

“Arturia.” His voice was lower now, more dangerous. “What is the meaning of this?”

She closed her eyes. She should have been blunt from the start, as it would have made things perhaps not easier, but at least more direct and faster.

“I assume they are talking about one business class flight having serious engine issues right now – and announcing that it is soon going to crash.”

“Yes,” he confirmed in a curt tone, clearly expecting more.

She was forced to take a deep breath, but was surprised herself at how easily the words then came to her.

“Gilgamesh… I’m on that plane.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“No,” he finally breathed, roughly, hoarsely.

Swallowing the unwanted lump in her throat, she went on, “I’m calling you to say goodbye.”

Having said it, she felt as if all her energies had suddenly left her body, and she slumped slightly in her seat. The plane was going to crash in a matter of an hour, probably less, which meant that everyone who had taken the flight was going to die.

People around her were calling their loved ones to say their last words; she was doing the same, even though she had never told Gilgamesh that he was among her loved ones. Considering that he had declared his explicit interest in marrying her countless times throughout the past two years and she had slowly started to reciprocate the feeling once she had become closer with him but had never told him so, there was no better moment to be frank.

She knew that she had to remain cautious nonetheless, because if this was going to be their last conversation, she did not intend to make him look back on it with anger.

She focused when he abruptly spoke again.

“Arturia – you’re not dying today,” he hissed into the phone.

“I am,” she countered, tone careful but firm. “People die every day, Gilgamesh, and no one can prevent this. This plane is going to crash in the middle of the ocean in a little less than an hour, and since I don’t want to be on the phone at the very end, please let me talk.”

Some people around her gave her stares, but none was of reproach – they were all filled with resigned desperation. Arturia had thought that she was going to feel resignation as well; instead, all she could think about was her powerlessness and the fact that she was completely _helpless_ in this situation and could do nothing but wait for her inevitable death.

She took another deep breath. She was going to die soon, that was true, but before that, she had to finish her last conversation with Gilgamesh.

“I’m aware… that this situation is beyond my control and not my fault, but I am still sorry.” Her eyes flickered for a second. “I’m sorry that this is happening. I’m sorry that things are going to end this way.” A wry smile curved her lips, and she knew that Gilgamesh was going to be able to notice it even without seeing her. “I expected it to make me angry, and in some ways, I do feel some frustration… but not truly. I feel no resentment about what I did in my life.” She paused again and closed her eyes, finding it easier to speak. “I feel regret though, about– about… about what I didn’t do.”

Gilgamesh was oddly respecting her wishes and letting her talk, and even now, he didn’t interrupt her, prompting her to continue, “I regret the quarrels we had about foolish things that made me avoid you for days. I regret the time I wasted in remaining detached and silent, and most of all, I regret the time I spent doing nothing. Instead of acting when I realized that I was starting to fall in love with you, I did nothing, because I have pride, and I refused to accept it.”

She had to stop in order to breathe, but there wasn’t even the slightest hesitation in her voice as she finished, “I don’t know if I could have truly loved you, but I prevented myself from trying, therefore I will never know. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be at all, but I wasn’t fair towards you and now it’s too late to find out. That is something I regret deeply, and I apologize.”

When she opened her eyes, she didn’t even notice a few people staring at her again, her gaze too unfocused to bother about anything else around her.

“That was all I wanted to say,” she said after a moment of silence, her voice becoming colourless. “I have taken up enough of your time.”

“Arturia, don’t you _dare_ hang up right now–” Gilgamesh growled into the phone, instantly reading her mind, but it was useless. Arturia did not wish to end the conversation with a discussion, but she did not want it to last longer than strictly necessary either – since she wasn’t going to allow herself to become emotional. She knew it was inconsiderate and unfair on her part, but it was ultimately _her_ decision to make.

“I am sorry,” was all she could bring herself to say, and she disconnected the call when her voice traitorously broke on the last word.

She stared at the phone only for a moment, forcing herself to focus then on other people in order to gather herself. She wasn’t entirely surprised to see that many had concluded their phone calls as well, clearly not wishing to have their death overheard by their loved ones.

A moment later, her phone started ringing, but she refused the call. Gilgamesh was trying to contact her, but she was not going to allow it. It was selfish of her, she was fully conscious of it, but she could not handle a full goodbye. Not from him.

When she turned down the third call, she considered turning off her phone completely. Before she could make her final decision though, she started to receive a series of texts from him.

_You stubborn woman, answer the phone._

_Arturia, answer the phone._

_Arturia._

_Arturia, ANSWER._

_Arturia, don’t force me to tell you that I love you through a text_.

Only three words and completely out of character for him, but they managed to make her fingers hesitate on the screen, not knowing whether she should reply or not.

A brief wave of anger washed over her as she read those words again, because he had never told her in person; he had had to wait until _now_ to tell her.

A second later, a feeling of guilt enveloped her. She hadn’t allowed him to say anything during the call; she had bluntly told him that she was about to die and, without giving him the time to collect himself after such a piece of news, she had hung up.

Arturia’s hand clenched and unclenched a few times as she pondered, her thoughts becoming more anxious as she could see other people realizing that time was running out as well. She couldn’t call Gilgamesh again, because hearing his voice was going to crack her composure and she wasn’t going to stand for that in her last moments.

She could reply to his text though. Replying to his declaration of love seemed redundant after she had already poured out the truth during the call, therefore she went for the most direct and short answer she could use.

 _Goodbye_.

Immediately after sending the text, she turned off the phone and tossed it into her bag. There was little chance of Irisviel or her father calling her back before the crash, which meant that it was now useless to her. Besides, she knew that if she kept it on, there were going to be more messages from Gilgamesh.

As she leaned back against her seat, her eyes were dry, as she didn’t feel any pity for herself. She felt much more sorrow for all the other passengers of the flight, and of course the families and friends of everyone on the plane. Crashing in the middle of the ocean was going to leave everyone with basically zero chances of survival.

Looking out of the window into the dark sky of the night, Arturia waited, knowing that she was going to die soon.

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_~So we held hands~_

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The plane didn’t crash.

Perhaps it was a miracle; perhaps it was luck; perhaps a bit of both. No one would ever know for certain, but the facts weren’t going to change: soon after her phone call with Gilgamesh, the storm reduced, allowing the damaged engine to adjust and be able to continue an unstable flight until they reached the nearest airport, located on a foreign island. It was still an emergency landing and therefore quite rough, but the worst that happened to the crew and passengers were some minor bruises due to the impact.

This meant of course that, thankfully, no one died. As soon as they landed, all the passengers were taken to an emergency area near the aircraft where they all underwent medical check-ups and had to wait several hours for clearance to leave. Once all the formalities were completed, their luggage surprisingly retrieved intact and everyone declared healthy, they were finally free to take a special flight that would bring them to their original destination, where they were told many of the passengers’ closest relatives were already anxiously waiting for them.

As soon as they finally landed after another short flight, Arturia wasn’t entirely surprised to find Gilgamesh waiting for her.

Although she had briefly left a message for her father and Irisviel when authorities had offered them free phone calls, she hadn’t turned on her own phone, not having had the time for it during the bureaucratic formalities and the medical visits. She didn’t therefore know what to expect; while she didn’t regret anything of what she had told him during the call, she had been so blunt mainly because she had been certain that she was going to die. The fact that she was instead alive and had to confront her confession was going to be, at the very least, extremely uncomfortable.

Warily, she made her way towards him, crossing the barrier that separated her from the waiting area.

Of all the outcomes she could have predicted, being almost suffocated by a hug had definitely not been one of them.

Gilgamesh did not hold her long enough to give her the time to hug him back, and when he let her go, she found herself standing in front of him, wide-eyed and staring into his eyes, completely oblivious to the hundreds of people surrounding them at the busy airport.

She hadn’t realized that she might have actually never seen him again.

When she fully absorbed the implications of her thought, she took an immediate step forward, ready to hug him again – but then stopped herself in mid-action when she recalled what she had last told him.

He was staring back at her – the look in his eyes making her guess that he hadn’t slept a wink since she had called him – as being taller than her made it easier for him to search her face avidly with the hunger of a starving man.

He noticed her intention to hug him and her subsequent hesitation, and he gave a scoff that surprisingly sounded like a chuckle.

“Arturia,” he addressed her, only the faintest tremble in his tone, “make up your mind.”

After examining his face for a few moments, she cautiously brought her arms up again to go around his neck to carefully embrace him. She was tense and it felt stiff, as she was unfamiliar with the concept of hugging, but she was determined to go through with the action. This was something she _wanted_.

His own arms went back around her body, pulling her closer and transforming her tentative gesture into a mutual embrace, holding her to him as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

After a long moment in which neither of them moved, Arturia finally murmured against his shoulder, “This is… awkward.”

Even though he knew that she wasn’t talking about the hug, Gilgamesh did scoff this time.

“Only because you expected to die,” he pointed out, the smallest hint of amusement creeping into his tone.

Arturia shrugged slightly, looking still ill at ease.

“Mostly because I’m alive. And you are alive too,” she acknowledged, seeming undecided about what to do next.

Gilgamesh saved her from the uncertainty by asking, “Are you injured?”

She was caught off-guard but wasn’t truly astonished by the question itself, therefore was quick to gather herself and shake her head.

She couldn’t keep ignoring the elephant in the room though, and she was done in trying to run away from the embarrassment she was feeling.

“I’m very glad to see you again,” she said unexpectedly. “I’m of course happy to be alive, but I’m mostly very happy to see you.”

She had just swallowed months and months of pride in order to admit such a thing, but she refused to lower her gaze afterwards. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to feed his large ego with such a comment, but she _would_ tell him the truth.

She expected him to react smugly, but he managed to astonish her this time by merely offering her a strange smirk, which only her trained eye was able to identify as a smile.

“I’m relieved to see you alive,” he replied, tone relaxed. “But I have to ask you a question, and I will have your truthful answer.”

Arturia felt both alarmed and slightly offended at what he was implying.

“I have never lied to you, Gilgamesh,” she said, somewhat coldly. “I will answer with the truth.”

As soon as those words escaped her mouth, she felt ready to roll her eyes at herself. Without even knowing what he wanted to ask, she had already agreed not only to hear him out, but also to give him an answer.

He did not seem to have any outward reaction to her reply and bluntly questioned, “Right before you hung up so crudely…” She should have known that he would ask her about it _and_ voice his displeasure at the same time. “…were you exaggerating to give me a happy thought before your death?”

Arturia stared at him, blinking a couple of times, incredulous.

Seeing her disbelief, he elaborated, “You are a kind person, Arturia. I therefore suspect that you told me about your supposed feelings because you believed you were going to die and wanted to say something nice–”

“Every word I told you was, and is, the absolute truth,” she interrupted him concisely. “I did not lie to you, nor do I plan on ever doing so.”

Looking straight into his eyes and confirming that what she had said on the phone call was true was something that Arturia discovered was indeed difficult, but not as hard as she had thought it to be. And once she had said it, she felt as if an immense weight was lifted from her shoulders. It felt _good_.

Unable to stop herself, she smiled at him. “If you don’t have any other questions, I would suggest getting something to eat.” She indicated one of the nearby airport restaurants, away from all the commotions that surrounded them, with a slight tilt of her head. “I’m famished.”

Gilgamesh stared at her wordlessly for a few seconds, before cracking a grin of his own, and Arturia’s smile widened when he did not protest about her choosing what he would have deemed an unrefined place for a meal.

He calmly grabbed her luggage for her – ignoring her weak protest – and took her hand. She was the only one who noticed him squeezing it tightly as she guided them both out of the stifling waiting lounge.

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_~Loneliness doesn’t catch up on us again~_

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End file.
